Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 8
Disclaimer: The Warcraft universe is a creation of Blizzard Entertainment, not me. I intend not to, nor am I making, any money from this work.
Some rights reserved. This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Summary: A draenei paladin traveling through Northrend comes across a tauren shaman in trouble with the scourge.
Author's note: More story has arrived! This one is back to the usual length of the previous few parts. I am rapidly approaching the finish of this story. There are about four more parts of the story to come. As for the ending, well, you will need to wait and see, because I'm not spoiling the surprise. However, I will unfortunately spoil something in this part of the story... This part has some mature bits in it, so a word of warning: If you don't want to read, go away now!
--
Be Kind To Those Less Fortunate 8
--
Unholy.
The piece of parchment covered in dried blood that sat on the table emitted unholy energy. The draenei was troubled by this, not only because of the source of the power, but the greatness of that power also. He knew that he was no match for the writer of the death threat against him. He had sat down on the couch beside his tauren companion. Deep in thought, he had not realised that he had leaned up against the large muscular bull, who now had his arm around him.
"I think you should just ignore it," Stronghoof said in an attempt to comfort the draenei. "We are in Dalaran, there's no way that anything could happen here."
Anarchei wanted very much to believe that, but he knew that the reality of the situation had escaped the shu'halo. That fact was that the one who had sent the threat was more powerful than he was, and with the most powerful mages of the Kirin Tor in Icecrown Citadel fighting the Lich King, there was no one in Dalaran who could help them. The evil behind the threat was undeniable. The runic power he had sensed could not be disregarded. As a fully trained paladin, he knew who had written the death threat. If Stronghoof knew, he would agree with Anarchei that the best thing to do would be to go into hiding. A death knight had penned that note, and not just any death knight. This one was powerful, possibly one of the highest ranking in the Lich King's army of undeath.
"We cannot ignore this," Anarchei explained. "The one who sent this note is more powerful than anyone in Dalaran, even more powerful than me. I think we have little choice in the matter. Either I stay here and face certain death, or I do as the note says and leave."
After a moment of stunned silence, Stronghoof turned to face his friend. "You can't be serious!"
"I've never been more serious in my life," the draenei responded with a sigh as he shrugged off the tauren's heavy arm and stood up. "It's for the best."
"No!" Stronghoof stood also and moved in front of Anarchei to face him. "Wherever you go, I'm going with you. I'm not leaving you, and you aren't leaving me!"
The draenei thought it over and for a moment thought to tell his companion that he would not agree, but at the last moment he changed his mind and gave the tauren a nod. He was quickly surrounded by fur and muscle as Stronghoof gave him another bone-crushing embrace. They were interrupted, however, by a knock at the door. Stronghoof immediately jumped back.
"It's all right," Anarchei tried to calm his friend down.
He turned and walked to the door, unlocked and opened it, to reveal Jorus. The netherdrake was in sindorei form, and entered the room, after which Anarchei shut and locked the door.
"I heard that there was a problem and came as quickly as I could," the elf explained, and when he noticed the quizzical look on the bull's face he continued. "Anarchei and I have a special bond that enables us to talk to each other with our minds."
"What special bond?"
"Well, a few years ago my family was held captive by orcs in Shadowmoon Valley. Anarchei, who was an outsider, managed to gain the trust of the netherwing, infiltrate the orc camp, and freed many of the drakes held against their will. For his acts, I offered to be his companion. I would carry Anarchei on my back wherever he wanted to go, so long as it involved flying. Whenever I wasn't needed I would teleport back to my family."
Stronghoof nodded in understanding. "I guess that's one of those times you helped others as a paladin, right?"
Anarchei nodded. "One of many."
"One day I'd like to hear about the other people you have helped."
"I'm sure he will tell you anything," Jorus interrupted. "As soon as you are out of harms way."
"Speaking of which, where are we going?" Stronghoof asked.
"My home of course," the elf explained. "Now gather your things, we don't want to leave anything behind."
With a wave of his hand, the room that had once served as a training ground for the two paladins, was rearranged as it was when they first arrived. All their belongings floated through the air and landed at their feet, armour and all. With no desire to waste any more time, they both quickly put on their armour and placed their weapons behind their backs. Anarchei then produced a small stone the size of his palm as if from nowhere, a stone with a strange symbol carved upon it.
"Come and touch the stone," he beckoned. "This will take us to Draenor."
They all placed their hands on the stone. Once in position, a green glow emanated from the stone, surrounded them, and a moment later they vanished.
--
The wind blew.
The land was covered in long flowing green grasses that fluttered in the breeze. Here and there, pockets of threes erupted from the landscape, and large bodies of water filled in the low lying areas. To the north-east, towering grew cliffs rose up to meet the pink and blue sky, while to the south-west a sheer drop led into the Twisting Nether. High above the landscape, small floating islands hovered gracefully, sporting either trees surrounded by grass, or lakes that lost their water to the land below in an endless cascade. This was Nagrand, one of the few remaining unscarred lands of Draenor.
High in the cliffs that surrounded Nagrand to the east, a large shelf of flat land covered in trees existed. Here, in the centre lay a large clearing, to the untrained eye simply grassland. However, to those permitted to see it, what actually existed there was a small city, hidden by magical means. A miniature Dalaran, this city was made up of many towers made of stones of white, grey, light pink, and pale blue. Within the city limits were sindorei, or what appeared to be sindorei. In fact, they were netherwing drakes in disguise, or rather, in the forms they preferred to take. In the centre of the city there was a market, where elfs, ethereals, draenei, orcs, kurenei, and even some ogres all came to trade with one another. Only those that had proven themselves friends of the netherwing were welcome. Above the sounds of the market, on the balcony of the highest apartment within one of the tallest towers, a tauren, draenei, and sindorei had appeared as if out of nowhere. The tauren was momentarily stunned by the view he took in, until his companion draenei explained where he is and the story behind it.
"You see," Anarchei continued, after he had described Nagrand and the city to his friend. "The netherwing are not very trusting of outsiders. They have good reason to. After all, they are the hatchlings of Deathwing."
"Really?" Stronghoof asked, glancing at the elf beside him in a moment of fear.
"There is no reason to fear us," Jorus attempted to calm the bull. "We have taken a different path from that of our progenitor. For the most part we are peaceful, however we do not take kindly to strangers."
"The netherwing have been mistreated by many after the explosion that tore this planet apart," the draenei added, grasping the tauren's arm gently. "This city is one of the few places that they have that they can live in relative peace from those that would wish them harm."
"I see," Stronghoof sighed in relief.
"Can we go inside now?" Jorus asks with a note of displease. "This wind is ruining my hair."
The other two took a moment to examine the elf's long blue hair, restraining themselves at the dishevelled look the elf now sported. The elf gave them an angry looking stare before he stomped off, gracefully if a little forcibly opening the twin glass doors that led into the apartment.
"I didn't know dragons cared about their looks as much as a sindorei does," the bull chuckled.
"Well, they like to look good," the draenei explained. "And in their opinion, elfs are the best looking race they have encountered. Who knows, maybe been in that form for so long they have adapted a few of the traits one would expect of a sindorei."
"Maybe," Stronghoof's voice trailed off as he saw inside the large apartment. "Is this your place?"
"Yes it is," Anarchei turned to look at what his friend had starred at. "This is my home. Want to come and have a better look?"
The bull nodded. Once inside, the draenei gave his companion a tour. From the balcony was the main room, which contained a lounge suite made of plush black cloth upon the largest Jorus now sat brushing his hair, a dining table with six chairs made of dark varnished wood, and a kitchen with a large pantry, a strange looking door that was cool to the touch, and an oven and stove that looked like they were powered not by fire but by magic. When they were done, they joined Jorus in the lounge. Before they could even have a chance to sit down and relax, the elf immediately stood up, his hair now straight as ever.
"I need to go see my family and explain to them the situation," he expressed with a look of seriousness. "Hopefully it will never come to it, but just in case, I will arrange some extra security for you two. I will be back later in the day to check on you."
Without another word, Jorus turned and stepped out on to the balcony, closed the doors behind him, almost instantaneously transformed into his natural drake form, and took off, flying away and out of sight.
After a short pause, Anarchei turned to Stronghoof. "Maybe this is a good time to settle in?"
"Sure."
They both methodically removed their armour and placed it in a neat pile against the wall, their swords against the stone with the rest of their gear. They were both in black under-armour, which was tight and left nothing to the imagination. Every bump of muscle, every curve of their bodies, every bulge was visible. Both did nothing to hide their looks, assaulting each other's muscled bodies with their eyes.
"Eh, Anarchei?" the tauren asked, tearing his eyes from his companion's strong body to look him in the eyes. "Would it be possible to get cleaned up? I mean, I'm a bit sweaty from our training earlier, and I kind of stink."
"Oh, ah, yeah, no problem," the draenei responded, his eyes meeting his friend's. "This way."
Stronghoof followed Anarchei down a corridor off the main room. They passed a few doors, but eventually the draenei opened the one at the end. Inside the room was a large bath set into the stone floor. It could almost be described as a swimming pool, with a bench that lined the edge so that bathers could sit while in the water. Anarchei crouched down and pressed a few metal buttons on the side of the empty pool, and water suddenly began to pour in as if from nowhere, with plenty of soap and bubbles to go with it.
"Just a bit of magic that the netherwing are fond of experimenting with," the draenei explained to the confounded tauren.
Once the bath was almost full, the water stopped flowing. Stronghoof stripped off his under-armour and entered the pool. He turned around to face Anarchei.
"You going to join me?" asked the naked bull, half submerged in water and bubbles.
"Of course," the draenei replied as he removed his own under-armour.
For the first time he had revealed his naked form to another, and as he entered the bath full of warm water, he could not help but feel a little bit excited, especially with his friend checking him out so openly.
"We both have sheaths," Stronghoof said bluntly, not exactly what the draenei was expecting.
"Well, from what I can tell, the draenei and the shu'halo share a few similarities," Anarchei explained as he took a seat on the bench that lay underwater, his tail curled to the side. "We both have hooves, digigrade legs, and of course horns. Our genitalia is just something else we have in common."
After this explanation, they both began to clean themselves. Their hands shifted over their bodies, tauren over dark fur, draenei over blue skin, both feeling the hard muscle underneath. After a while they could not stop their peaks at one another. Eventually, most of the bubbles had cleared, leaving their lower bodies mostly visible to each other. Stronghoof shifted over to sit beside Anarchei.
"Can I wash your back?" the shu'halo asked.
Taking the draenei's nod as consent, as well as his move to the centre of the pool to give the tauren access, Stronghoof began to wash his friends broad rippled back. He started at the shoulders and slowly moved down, feeling the hardness of the muscles slowly dissolve under his gentle massage. Anarchei groaned and shut his eyes. Not only did the feeling of Stronghoof's three-fingered hands feel good on his stressed back, it had also resulted in his growing arousal. He was hard, but he felt too good from the massage to try to cover it up. The tauren, being taller, noticed this new state of affairs, and bravely reached around with his left hand to feel the draenei's cock. Stronghoof realised that while similar, the draenei's penis was smaller than his own, in girth and length. Anarchei moaned at the the touch, and pressed into the furry hand. The tauren had also become hard, and pressed his arousal into the draenei's back.
Anarchei gently touched Stronghoof's hand and guided him off his cock and turned around to face his new lover. They looked into each other's eyes for a moment and then leaned in for a kiss. Their tongues met, the bull's larger one overpowered the draenei and entered his mouth. Stronghoof reached around Anarchei and pulled him in, their bodies crushed together in the warm water, their hard cocks sparred for space. At that moment Anarchei noticed that the tauren was much larger than him in all respects. With no desire for the moment to end, they moaned and groaned as they felt each other up. Stronghoof shifted his hands up and down the draenei's back while Anarchei felt down the tauren's front, sliding over the large chest, taunt belly, and down to his large ball sack, where he began to squeeze the objects within that were larger than his fist.
All of a sudden they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Jorus had returned.